Chapter 653: Zhu Zhu Yilou, Replete with Evils

Zhu Zhu Yijun was never a good man; before his wedding, he presided over executions, often beheading hundreds at a time—four major cases of the Emperor Wanli era and several campaigns left mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

But Zhu Zhu Yijun is kind.

The Emperor of Great Ming received the finest imperial education and single-handedly fostered the birth of theories on contradiction, public-private distinction, production diagrams, and class analysis; thus, Zhu Zhu Yijun reasons. Often, though deeply uncomfortable, he refrained from acting—to preserve political balance, to safeguard the Ming realm, to ensure the Great Debates bore fruit—many things he wished to do, he could not, for once done, the consequences would be endless.

The base Confucians chattered incessantly; Zhu Zhu Yijun grew weary, but the moment he moved, the Ming bureaucracy would double, triple, even multiply their enforcement—dragging common folk who chatted in teahouses into prison.

This could not be solved by harsh laws, for officials answered only upward; the emperor's will was one, but at the grassroots, it became a thousand.

Zhu Zhu Yijun could not act, but Zhu Zhu Yilou could.

For Zhu Zhu Yilou was not emperor, nor even regent—the regent was Prince De, Zhu Zhu Zaiyu; Zhu Zhu Yilou, as acting governor of the Northern Palace, handled affairs as a mere youth, ignorant and untrained; his edicts were excluded from the Performance Evaluation System; opposing him yielded no benefit, only punishment from this prince.

Worst case, Prince Lu's antics grew too wild—he'd be confined to his princely mansion for a few days with his foreign beauties. What else could be done?

The Emperor had only one younger brother; the imperial clan was sparse; no matter how unruly Prince Lu became, as long as he did not rebel, the Emperor could not execute him—Empress Dowager Li doted on him, and in this era of ruling through filial piety, confinement was all that remained.

Zhu Zhu Yilou sat sprawled in the Embroidered Uniform Guard's headquarters, extending his hand to display a lengthy list—he had prepared it long ago; over the years, besides playing hide-and-seek with his foreign beauties, he scoured the capital's miscellaneous reports for those scoundrels.

All for this day!

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan frowned and said, "But Your Highness, without a warrant from the Ministry of Justice, arresting people violates protocol."

"Are you the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard?" Zhu Zhu Yilou asked calmly.

"My father is."

Zhu Zhu Yilou asked again: "Am I the Emperor?"

"Your Highness's elder brother is."

"Then it's settled! Act boldly—should anything happen, your father and my brother will bear the blame!" Zhu Zhu Yilou shoved the list into Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan's hands.

Youthful arrogance? What's youth without it?

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan refused. The Northern Garrison had just crawled from the mire, barely regained authority—could not be wiped clean by this fool. The Northern Garrison had painstakingly rebuilt its institutions, reemerged onto the Ming political stage, no longer hiding in corners handling streets, roadside trees, and trash. Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan would not destroy this hard-won progress.

"How did your father raise such a stubborn mule? No warrant, no arrest, is that it?" Zhu Zhu Yilou laughed, pulling out a stack of blank warrants. "All stamped by the Grand Censor before he left—two or three hundred sheets, should be enough."

Zhu Zhu Yilou did not blame Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan for disobedience; had he obeyed, that would be the real trouble. The Embroidered Uniform Guard was unique—caught between inner and outer court; the result of ignoring rules was the fate of Commander Ji Gang; adherence to rules was the path of Commander Lu Bing.

Avoid becoming Ji Gang, strive to become Lu Bing—that was the ultimate trial for every Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan's adherence to protocol was good.

"This is one stack… five hundred sheets." Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan felt his head spinning. The Emperor had only ten blank warrants total; three had been used by Grand Censor Wang Wang Chonggu; only seven remained.

Now, Prince Lu held an entire stack—five hundred sheets. To emperors, princes, and ministers, these might seem worthless—but they were death warrants; one could end the life of any official below third rank.

Shen Shen Shixing, a fifth-rank Director, would be seized.

Zhu Zhu Yilou began counting warrants, ticking them off with a boastful tone: "My brother gave me a whole chest—fully stamped. Said I could use them freely. Hehehe."

A chest was not a stack.

His elder brother had never shortchanged Zhu Zhu Yilou; indeed, fearing he'd be bullied, Zhu Zhu Yijun specifically asked Wang Wang Chonggu for blank warrants. Wang Wang Chonggu had long seen Zhu Zhu Yilou's nature—a chaotic demon, born of noble blood; ten sheets were nowhere near enough, so he prepared a whole chest.

Go wild.

Wang Wang Chonggu was cursed daily by base Confucians—for mining coal in the Western Hills, for burning charcoal, for production accidents in state factories, for distributing dividends, for trading goods and being accused of hoarding wealth. Wang Wang Chonggu seethed with hatred—but he still smiled, for he was no child like Zhu Zhu Yilou; he could not rage at every accusation.

Now the chance had come—and Wang Wang Chonggu cooperated fully.

The Emperor, Prince Lu, and the Minister of Justice were acting recklessly—would Zhang Zhang Juzheng, as Imperial Tutor, Grand Secretary, and Senior Minister, not intervene?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng did nothing. He was Minister of Personnel; to meddle in Ministry of Justice affairs would be improper.

Yet Zhang Zhang Juzheng disapproved of the Emperor's tolerance of the base Confucians' incessant chatter. Great Ming was a feudal monarchy; insulting the imperial carriage was a capital crime—across all dynasties, shouting at the emperor's procession was unforgivable. This law upheld the sovereign's supreme authority. Yet the Emperor tolerated their barking—even when he heard them himself, he merely laughed and did nothing.

This was indeed benevolence, born of the Emperor's sorrow for Great Ming's misfortunes—but when misfortunes piled up, they formed knots in his heart, becoming deep wounds. Should he die, and the Emperor face the same End-of-Life Trial as the Daoist Master, that was Zhang Zhang Juzheng's greatest fear.

In Zhang Zhang Juzheng's view, the capital officials were too free.

"These forty-seven, throw them straight into the death cells. Investigate thoroughly, prepare for execution. What's that look for? I know the weight of things. Capital punishment requires triple review—without the Emperor's approval, could I execute them outright? The triple-review process must still be followed. These forty-seven are all traitors." Zhu Zhu Yilou tossed out forty-seven warrants.

Zhu Zhu Yijun dared to leave for his southern tour because he had watched Zhu Zhu Yilou grow up—reckless, yes, but knew limits. The triple-review for capital punishment was an ancient Han-era rule, the Emperor's prerogative.

"These one hundred twenty-four are all suspects. Lock them up, interrogate slowly. Even if innocent, I'll still punish them thoroughly." Zhu Zhu Yilou counted out another one hundred twenty-four warrants—these were suspects he was uncertain about, needing investigation and verification.

"The remaining six hundred four—arrest them all. I'll see their true faces. Today, I'll make these dogs remember: my brother is Emperor!"

"Don't ask anything—just go arrest them!"

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan had a thousand questions, but the paperwork was complete—no reason not to act. He snatched the list and warrants, sprinting out to rally the Embroidered Uniform Guards.

Zhu Zhu Yilou had a grand armchair carried into the courtyard, sprawled on it, legs crossed, lounging lazily under the early spring sun. He summoned three musicians from the Prince's troupe—one to play the qin, one to play the xiao, one to sing. Occasionally, he took a cup of water from a maid's hand to moisten his throat.

How delightful.

This slovenly behavior would earn him a kick if his brother saw it—Zhu Zhu Yilou had indeed been beaten by his brother for improper conduct. Demeanor was essential royal training; even in ordinary households, slouching or standing poorly invited scolding.

But his brother was away! Do as you please, no one watching, no one restraining—even heaven's lord himself couldn't change him.

"See the dark hole ahead—surely demons are at work! I'll charge forward and slaughter them clean! Yaha!" Zhu Zhu Yilou stood up, singing a line.

The musicians replied mockingly: "The Great Sage Equal to Heaven? Never heard of him! Just a lowly stable master, a monkey tending peach orchards, dreaming of attending the Jade Pool banquet!"

Zhu Zhu Yilou's face darkened. "This heavenly court is truly so—every face pious, every robe noble, embroidered with beasts yet worse than beasts! Behind closed doors, they gossip, stealing mortal blood as spiritual essence for immortality—truly evil beyond measure, stirring chaos through the Three Realms! I, the Great Sage, shall overturn this heavenly court—turn heaven and earth upside down!"

"Enough!"

Zhu Zhu Yilou played Sun Sun Wukong here, singing; Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan led the Embroidered Uniform Guards into the streets. The nine gates closed; neighborhood gates would shut within an hour—this was martial law. The Five City Military Command would drag heavy barriers across roads, blocking all passage.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards began arresting people from the Eastern, Western, Outer, and Western Earth Cities. Everywhere, cries echoed. The banquet feasts in Western Tucheng halted; even fireworks were set off by the guards—otherwise, they'd be dangerous.

In Western Tucheng, wealthy households had just celebrated the Emperor's southern tour, breathing easy—music and song had barely begun when the guards smashed through their doors. Bright armor and embroidered knives glinted in the early spring sun—everyone froze in terror.

Zhu Zhu Yilou's first evil: extorting wealthy households—fifty thousand taels per family. Miss a single li of silver, and he'd brandish blank warrants to confiscate their estates.

These wealthy families still argued: "The Emperor of Great Ming has never extorted! Never once!"

But servants and gatekeepers rushed in, whispering urgently—immediately, the wealthy bowed their heads. This demon had begun arresting people the moment the Emperor left the capital!

At that moment, the wealthy finally remembered their terror of feudal imperial power! The man they mocked daily—their very emperor—was the supreme sovereign of Great Ming.

Zhu Zhu Yilou's second evil: arresting those who gathered to discuss treason—no one on the list escaped. If one was missing, Zhu Zhu Yilou would hold Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan accountable.

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan returned to the Northern Garrison, saw Zhu Zhu Yilou's posture, and nearly fainted. Singing in this grim place—how could Prince Lu think this was fitting? The Emperor once told his practice partners: "Listening to music is about atmosphere."

What atmosphere could there be here?

"Finished?" Zhu Zhu Yilou gestured to the musicians to pause, turning to Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan.

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan replied instantly: "No one escaped. Everyone on the list is detained."

"Bring the list. Have the Imperial Physicians vaccinate these thirty-two with cowpox, then hang them on the city walls. They claim cowpox turns people into cows—growing tails and horns? Hang them up. If they don't grow them, I'll make them grow one!" Zhu Zhu Yilou marked thirty-two names.

These were the ones who had spread rumors during the cowpox vaccination campaign—talking nonsense, eating others' leftover buns. Zhu Zhu Yilou wanted to see if these brainless fools could truly sprout tails and horns.

Cowpox vaccination had begun large-scale trials in Suiyuan. After Pang Zhang Xian returned to the capital, the first person vaccinated was the Emperor himself.

As Emperor, if all those around him were vaccinated, he rarely contracted smallpox—this was the privilege of the born noble; technically, the Emperor didn't need vaccination.

But Zhu Zhu Yilou saw it: his brother let Pang Zhang Xian vaccinate him—that was "When the sovereign acts, the myriad people look up and follow." His brother was leading by example, fulfilling his imperial duty!

Yet these base Confucians were spreading lies—according to them, in a few days, the Emperor would grow cow tails and horns in his sleep!

"Brother, he is kind—these base Confucians exploit his kindness!" Zhu Zhu Yilou's lip twitched as he gave the order.

This was his fourth evil today: stripping people naked and hanging them on the walls.

"I'll carry it out immediately!" Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan ordered other Company Commanders to vaccinate the thirty-two and hang them on the walls. He even had a large sign written and hung beside them, explaining the reason.

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan joined the chaos for a reason—it could dispel rumors.

Rumors never die among the wise; only facts can destroy them. This was what the Emperor always taught: practice is truth.

If these thirty-two vaccinated people showed no horns or tails, the rumor would be shattered—cowpox could be fully promoted.

Smallpox was a nightmare—sweeping through a region, leaving no remedy, closing city gates turned it into a hell. Half surviving was sheer luck. But evidence proved cowpox could prevent smallpox—no matter what, it must be promoted; such rumors could not be allowed to spread.

Zhu Zhu Yilou shared this view. He was reckless, but never mindlessly so.

"Your Highness, I have a question: of the forty-seven in the death cells, thirteen were confirmed traitors. How did you know?" Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan asked sincerely. Thirteen out of forty-seven—too accurate!

"Didn't your father teach you his specialty?" Zhu Zhu Yilou pulled out another list, astonished.

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan replied: "My father's specialty? Isn't it confiscating estates? I know that well."

"Exactly! Commander Zhao once said: one instance is coincidence, two is suspicion, three is intent—that's the Triple Indication Method. Your father used it to identify suspects. These forty-seven? They appear every time. This isn't triple indication—it's thirty, three hundred times! Always them. If not traitors, what are they?"

"Commander Zhao always said: clues speak."

Zhu Zhu Yilou looked at Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan with disdain—he'd heard it all, memorized it. Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan was asking him? That was Zhao Zhao Mengyou's specialty!

"Your Highness, incredible!" Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan said sincerely, even raising his thumb. He'd never thought much of Zhu Zhu Yilou—just a lazy prince wasting his days. Now he realized he'd utterly underestimated Prince Lu.

Zhu Zhu Yilou crossed his arms and grinned: "Nothing special. My brother takes me to court hearings every day—I've heard it all."

Zhu Zhu Yilou truly learned this from court hearings. He didn't want to learn—but his brother forced-feed him relentlessly. He figured even the dumbest man, if pounded like this, would learn everything.

"Here's another list." Zhu Zhu Yilou frowned. "Seize all twelve of these miscellaneous newspapers. Multiple indications—confiscate them. I'll give you twelve blank warrants. Take firearms, wear bright armor—I suspect they're hiding cannons and crossbows. Be extremely cautious."

"Every Embroidered Uniform Guard was selected from frontier outposts and coastal inspectors. Lose one, and my brother will grieve for a long time."

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan studied the list, frowned, then asked: "Should we bring the nine-pound cannons? They're effective."

"Bring them. Take every weapon we can carry. I'm coming with you." Zhu Zhu Yilou immediately stopped listening to music—he wanted to personally raid these twelve newspaper offices!

Listening to music was duller than firing cannons.

Zhu Zhu Yilou donned his armor. His martial skill fell short of his brother's, but he'd been trained since childhood to the level of the Capital Garrison's elite—slightly below frontier commanders. He always beat Xiong Xiong Tingbi—because Xiong Xiong Tingbi held back.

"Your Highness, let me go." Xiong Xiong Tingbi stood beside Zhu Zhu Yilou. Beyond his role as junior of the Quanzhou Association, he was Prince Lu's bodyguard and sparring partner—dangerous missions suited him best.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng had summoned Xiong Xiong Tingbi under the guise of New Year greetings—to give Zhu Zhu Yilou a helper, so he wouldn't be left without counsel when trouble struck.

"I'll come too—just to watch. If fighting breaks out, I'll hide behind everyone. Xiong Da, I'm counting on you." Zhu Zhu Yilou realized his combat experience was lacking—if he joined battle, he'd be a liability. He immediately declared he'd stay behind.

"Good!" Xiong Xiong Tingbi relaxed.

"March!" Zhu Zhu Yilou waved his hand, and the Embroidered Uniform Guards set out to raid homes.

This was Zhu Zhu Yilou's fifth evil today: confiscation.

Zhu Zhu Yilou had planned it: five evils per day—so all would remember how painful the iron fist of feudal autocracy could be. His brother might overlook them, but someone else wouldn't.

The confiscations did not go smoothly. The first target, "Lianyun Miscellaneous News," met resistance. When the Embroidered Uniform Guards demanded entry and received no reply, Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan sensed trouble and ordered men to take cover behind the shielded war chariots, loading gunpowder.

The Crimson Riders are the Emperor's personal guards; when they mobilize and no one dares to open the gate, it means those inside are no ordinary rebels—they require nine-pound cannons to deal with!

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan raised a large conical trumpet and shouted loudly: "Final warning: Open the mansion gate immediately! Three, two, one!"

"Cannons ready!"

A bestial roar erupted from within the printing houses: "A tyrant rules, corrupt ministers fill the court! I'll fight you to the death! Brothers, fire the arrows!"

Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan slashed his small flag downward and roared: "Fire!"

One nine-pound cannon and three mother-and-child cannons fired simultaneously; the thunderous blast erupted across the capital.

Gunpowder ignited violently within the barrel; the bursting shell, propelled by the explosion, shot skyward, its delay fuse hissing as it soared above the Lianyun Bookshop—then detonated with a roar, iron caltrops screaming through the air, spraying waves of blood mist.

The mother-and-child cannons aimed at the mansion gate, firing solid shot that shattered the gate into splinters.

Arrows fired by the desperate rebels struck the side shields of the armored war carts, causing no casualties.

"Good, good, good!" Zhu Zhu Yilu burst into hearty laughter—this was far more terrifying than fireworks.

"Shield team!" Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan, seeing the gate destroyed, prepared to advance.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi signaled Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan to pause and whispered: "Commander Zhao, hold. Let's fire a few more rounds before advancing. Gunpowder brought out is wasted if unused—and inventorying it in and out is a nuisance."

"True. They're all rebels inside." Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan, having served the Emperor so long, had picked up his frugality.

After three more cannon volleys reduced walls and buildings to rubble, the Crimson Riders cautiously entered. Everywhere lay severed limbs and mangled bodies—because the nine-pound cannons and bursting shells had been loaded with reduced charges; otherwise, these men would have been stunned dead, not groaning here.

"Your Highness, something here." A Crimson Rider discovered a hidden basement in a secluded corner; after thorough inspection, he found contraband inside.

Zhu Zhu Yilu entered the basement. Under flickering torchlight, he saw what lay within.

Matchlocks, gunpowder, powerful crossbows, armor—all matchlocks hung neatly on the walls, at least two hundred in number; armor exceeded fifty sets, all iron full-plate, though far inferior in quality to the equipment of the Great Ming's capital garrisons.

Zhu Zhu Yilu spat out a foul breath and growled: "A pack of rebels! Keep searching—the next house!"

The Great Ming Crimson Riders continued their raids. That night, the capital was far from peaceful—cannon fire echoed constantly; rumors spread through the alleys, some even claiming the Northern Barbarians had invaded and the city guards were firing to repel them.

At dawn the next day, as the sky lightened, neighborhood gates opened, street barricades were removed, and the Jiumen stood open as usual. Aside from a few printing houses now collapsed and cordoned off, everything seemed normal—except for a faint odor of gunpowder.

Zhu Zhu Yilu yawned his way into the Zhao Wenhua Hall. After ordering the throne raised, he bowed halfheartedly toward the dragon chair, then plopped onto his own square stool. On ordinary days, when the Emperor was present, Zhu Zhu Yilu wouldn't even bother bowing.

"Your subjects pay homage to Your Majesty—may Your Majesty live ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years! We also pay respects to Prince Lu."

"Enough, enough, stand down. Li Dang, starting tomorrow, court sessions are delayed by one hour." Zhu Zhu Yilu yawned again—he'd been busy raiding homes last night and slept too little.

Zhu Zhu Yilu grumbled: "Waking up earlier than a rooster—is this how a man should live?"

This was the life his mighty elder brother had endured for twelve full years—without slacking once.

"Your servant obeys." Li Li Yougong bowed deeply.

"You don't object? But you're the Grand Eunuch!" Zhu Zhu Yilu blinked, puzzled.

Li Li Yougong smiled: "Before departing, His Majesty specifically instructed me: these are minor matters—no need to argue."

"What exactly did the Emperor say?" Zhu Zhu Yilu was curious—what had his brother told him?

"His Majesty said: 'Prince Lu is accustomed to laziness. For matters not truly important, let him have his way. For important matters, he will never slack.'" Li Li Yougong smiled broadly—His Majesty had guessed perfectly. Prince Lu truly was lazy, utterly unlike the diligent Emperor.

"Begin court session!" Zhu Zhu Yilu sat upright. "Yesterday, I arrested over a thousand people. During the raids, we uncovered this many rebels!"

"The Emperor is absent—speak plainly. I can't punish you anyway."

Imperial warrants are useless against officials of rank three or higher—neither civil nor military. Only the Emperor may decide their fate.

"I have a question," said Shen Li, Minister of Rites, who remained in the capital. "Did His Highness obtain imperial warrants for these arrests? If not, I must impeach the Assistant Regional Commander Zhao Zhao Zhenyuan!"

"Yes." Zhu Zhu Yilu pulled a thick stack of blank imperial warrants from his sleeve. "Look—these were given to me by the Emperor. A whole chestful."

"Then I have no further questions." Shen Li stared at the stack of blank warrants—his head spun. The Emperor owned only ten in total; in years past, only three had been used. Zhu Zhu Yilu had just tossed out so many—these were imperial warrants, not toilet paper!

Shen Li, a staunch upright minister, had prepared a thousand arguments upon hearing of Zhu Zhu Yilu's chaos in the capital. He'd planned to fight him tooth and nail, starting with the warrants. But now, with all paperwork in order, his remaining arguments were silenced.

"Your Highness, hanging these men naked on the city walls is a disgrace to civility. But since they themselves behaved uncivilly and spread lies, that's one thing. May I ask—how long will they remain hanging?" asked Zeng Ceng Shengwu, Minister of War.

"What do you think is appropriate, Great Minister?" Zhu Zhu Yilu blinked—he'd been so busy, he'd forgotten this detail.

"Nine days. Until the smallpox blisters form and the rumors are dispelled. Keeping them up longer means someone must feed and water them daily—and it's wasteful." Zeng Ceng Shengwu, an extreme conservative, believed frugality must be absolute—after all, the founding Emperor had been exceedingly frugal.

"Fine, nine days then—mainly to quell the rumors." Zhu Zhu Yilu readily agreed.

The thirty-two men hung in different poses—Immortal Points the Way, Eagle Grabs Bear, Wild Horse Leaps the Ravine, Lion Shakes Head—this wasn't hanging criminals; this was art!

"Your Highness, what do you intend to do with these prisoners, having arrested so many?" asked Lu Lu Guangzu, Left Vice Minister of Justice and Chief Justice of the Weng Dali Temple.

"You ask? I plan to build a massive execution ground outside the Wu Gate, drag them there, and interrogate each one publicly before the people! Hehehe! What do you think, Junior Minister of Justice?" Zhu Zhu Yilu raised an eyebrow—he intended a public trial. Guilt or innocence must be seen not just by the court, but by the people.

"They themselves discarded their dignity—why should I grant them any?"

"Good." Lu Lu Guangzu was momentarily speechless, but offered no objection.

Since nine-pound cannons had already been fired, further opposition would mean bringing out fifteen- or thirty-pound cannons. Better to hold a public trial than to fire more cannons.